Character-building politics, or cheap bullying? The day MPs stop teasing the likes of 'Mr Muppert' is the day British democracy dies

Some would call it character-forming or a gladiatorial fact of Westminster life. Julian Huppert, a Liberal Democrat backbencher, insists it is bullying. And he is the victim.

Little Mr Huppert - and he is a short 'un, ginger-haired and bespectacled at that, lucky chap - rose to speak in the Commons on Wednesday in a Chamber packed for Prime Minister's Questions.

It was 20 minutes into a typically rowdy session when Speaker Bercow called the next backbencher whose turn it was to put a zinger to David Cameron.

Victim? During his recent performance at PMQs, Julian Huppert's fellow MPs' insults were, he said, setting 'a very bad example' to the country

'Dr Julian Huppert!' cried Mr Bercow. The House, almost en masse: 'Oh NO!' Poor Huppert. This keeps happening to him. He and his constituents (the fine people of Cambridge) have as much right as anyone to be heard in our elected legislature. Yet whenever the Hon Huppert stands to speak, the House, or a large part thereof, bursts into gaseous mirth.

'Too long!' some shout when Mr Huppert has been speaking for no more than two seconds. 'Muppert!' cry others.

Cue the theme tune to The Muppet Show - 'mer-ner-mer-ner' go beery backbenchers. Mr Huppert, you see, has curly locks, a goatee beard and a slightly wibbly-wobbly shape, which leads some to detect a resemblance to Fozzie Bear.

Or does this earnest Lib Dem, whose interests include traffic management, humanism and software design, look more like a young Vladimir Ilyich Lenin? He certainly ignites a mob reaction from his parliamentary colleagues.

Speaker John Bercow perhaps encouraged the teasing of Julian Huppert by making sarcastic references to the MP's title of 'doctor'

Most MPs generate little more than bored indifference. But when Comrade Huppert leaps to his hind legs, as springy as an astronaut on a pogo stick, he is cheered ironically.

'Not him AGAIN!' they say, slapping their foreheads and making pretend dashes for the exits. When our hero finishes his question, Labour and Tory hecklers go into sarcastic 'Hear-hears'.

Even his Lib Dem colleagues laugh. As I say, poor Huppert. He has now, in the manner of a brittle Twiglet, snapped.

Mr Huppert complains he has had enough and expects the teasing to stop forthwith. His fellow MPs' insults were, he said, setting 'a very bad example' to the country.

'It is perfectly reasonable,' he put it, 'to respond to what people are saying but I think the atmosphere is far too often [one of] trying to shout people down.'

It was even put about that Speaker Bercow was in part to blame, for he has made ironic reference to Mr Huppert's use of his 'Dr' title (it is a scientific doctorate, not a medical one).

Mr Bercow occasionally calls the MP 'the good doctor'. Only the other day, before inviting Mr Huppert to the floor, the Speaker said: 'It is time for a dose of the doctor!'

This earned a laugh and that suited Mr Bercow, because he needs all the support he can get. But should a Speaker encourage teasing? That is certainly a fair question.

And what about the wider matter of the behaviour of the Commons. Does Mr - sorry, Dr - Huppert have a point? Or is he, well, a bit of a twerp?

We perhaps need to ask why Parliament exists. Is it just a place where laws are passed and governments scrutinised?

Or is it more than that? Is it the place where our nation's leaders and public characters are moulded?

Does the Commons transform 'ordinary' people into something different? It certainly can do, but that will not happen unless the Chamber is a daunting and sometimes confrontational place.

If the Commons were no more imposing a Chamber than a suburban living room, our parliamentarians would be even more humdrum than they are at present.

Character-building: The Commons is a vicious auditorium and we should not wish it any other way

Parliament toughens people. It produces leaders, and by golly we need some of them. It gives MPs a veneer, a glaze, a harder outer surface which serves to protect them, rather as Scotchguard will shield suede shoes from large puddles of rainwater.

This is not to say that MPs must never show vulnerability. The recently widowed Labour MP Ann Clwyd spoke of the suffering of her husband in hospital shortly before he died. She broke down in tears at PMQs.

It was an unforgettable, powerful moment. By and large, however, parliamentarians need to develop a pretty tough hide. They need to be resilient to special pleading by emotive pressure groups.

We need them to gain a certain independence from the party Whips and to acquire the scepticism essential if you are not to be misled in this wicked world.

Teasing: With his curly locks, a goatee beard and a slightly wibbly-wobbly shape, Julian Huppert's eccentric looks lead some to detect a resemblance to Fozzie Bear

MPs must make difficult decisions and these often require hard hearts and steely minds. They must certainly be able to withstand the jeers or sarcastic mutterings of a few hundred colleagues.

If they fold at the smallest bit of teasing, our nation really is finished. You may think this rich from a political sketchwriter, who teases for his daily bread and has described Mr Huppert as a 'dweeb', but I do not necessarily approve of name-calling.

Simple, gratuitous abuse can be boring. Nor do I like to see a loner mocked by the mob. To that extent, it is possible to have some sympathy for 34-year-old Mr Huppert and his busy goatee, which bobs up and down like a barmaid's elbow as he jabbers his earnest way through his many, many, many questions.

The trouble with Mr Huppert is this: the fellow is his own worst enemy. His views are predictable, off-the-peg jobs.

His fellow MPs have noticed that the moment he sits down after asking a question, he will whip out his mobile telephone and start writing an immediate, self-complimentary Tweet about his accomplishment in raising such and such an issue.

The House suspects, perhaps rightly, that Mr Huppert is the sort of one-time councillor who thinks the way of making a Westminster name for himself is asking questions on a multiplicity of wonkish and worthy causes.

National politics is more grown-up than that, or should be. Ideally, it is about reaching a wider philosophical world view. It is also about knowing when to keep your powder dry.

Mr Huppert is a windbag. He is also a scientist. Good for him. The Commons is not over-endowed with scientists. Yet he wears his knowledge heavily on his sleeve and the House does not appreciate that.

He may be a fine chemical biologist
but he has a tin ear when it comes to dealing with colleagues. That is a
weakness in a politician.

There
is, I am afraid, something intrinsically mockable about Julian Leon
Huppert, and the more he complains about the 'Oh NO' merchants, the more
he will encourage them.

Parliament
should not be censored. Parliament, like the Press, is the public
square. Mr Huppert, incidentally, is a supporter of the Hacked Off
campaign, which wants State control of newspapers.

Democracy: Parliament is more than just a place to pass laws and scrutinise government. It is place to mould leaders and that often requires a challenging and confrontational atmosphere

Far from demanding that the House respect him - a prospect that only recedes with every stamp of his feet - Mr Huppert should be glad that he has been noticed at all.

He could take a lesson from that talented orator George Galloway and use the heckling as fuel for his own rhetorical fury. And he could defuse his critics by saying something unexpected and non-partisan once in a while.

Varying his usual diet of clever-clogs self-righteousness might be a start. In entertainment parlance, Mr Huppert is 'getting the bird', the expression actors use when they are booed.

It used to be said that audiences in Glasgow theatres were the toughest in the country - comedians would dread playing there on a Friday night.

The Commons is just as vicious an auditorium. We should not wish it any other way. The day Parliament listens to every platitudinous bore with attentive respect is the day democracy dies.

Log on to the future with a password pill

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But soon it may also be the way to his email, Facebook and bank accounts. Scientists have created the first ‘edible password’ to save you having to remember a whole list of them.

The ‘vitamin authentication’ pill, being developed by phone manufacturer Motorola, is a small tablet embedded with a computer chip.

Once swallowed, your stomach acid is used to power its battery and create a signal that can be received by your phone or laptop. As the body conducts electricity, one touch of the computer or phone screen with your finger, face or elbow, and you’re in.

The technology has been approved by America’s health watchdog, but the ‘password pill’ has yet to move beyond prototype stage. One failing is that it would pass through your digestive system every 24 hours or so.

So if you want to give up memorising passwords for good, you’d have to make a password pill part of your daily routine.

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The day MPs stop teasing the likes of 'Mr Muppert' is the day democracy dies